


The Only Space Between Us is You

by eyesofshinigami



Series: The Birthday Collective [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, LITERALLY, Multi, Pegging, Semi PWP, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Geralt watches Yennefer and Jaskier get closer, watches them fall in love and starts to worry that soon there won't be any space for him.They set out to prove him wrong.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Birthday Collective [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910632
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	The Only Space Between Us is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [some_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/gifts).



> Okay, so, this is my first time every writing OT3 of _any_ kind, so please be gentle!
> 
> This is a birthday gift for the always wonderful some_stars. I hope you like it!
> 
> Beta-ed by handwrittenhello, who is amazing and wonderful and I love wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t know if they notice, but Geralt watches them together, sometimes. 

It used to be that Yennefer and Jaskier were like oil and water, volatile as they swirled around one another, both vivid presences in Geralt’s life that desperately tried to overpower each other. Somehow along the way it shifted, and now Geralt finds himself on the outside most of the time. He watches the way they talk and laugh, the way they casually touch, and even the way they move together in bed. They’re both so bright and beautiful and _too much_ , and Geralt wonders where he fits between them-- _if_ he fits between them at all anymore.

He loves them both so desperately, though the words get stuck in the back of his throat too often to know if _they_ know it. Jaskier loves freely and easily,like he sings it out to anyone who’ll listen or the way it burns brightly in his too blue eyes. Yennefer guards her love like a dragon does its hoard; it has to be earned and once she’s given it, she expects it to be kept safe in your chest. How can he compete with that?

Watching them fall together has been both painful and beautiful to witness, like the death of a star and its rebirth into a supernova. They’re not bound by wishes, or by obligations, so they can just fall easily into one another. He’s glad that the two people he has given his heart to love each other, but he worries that that space he’s carved out between them will get smaller and smaller as the days wear on. 

He would never tell them so, never put a voice to the fears that wrap ice cold claws around his heart. The world is told that witchers don’t feel fear, but that isn’t true. Perhaps they don’t fear monsters or death, but there are worse things to be frightened of that linger underneath the skin. 

Geralt thinks that he hides it well enough, that neither of them notice, wrapped up in each other as they are. He’s forced himself to be content with the knowledge that they’re both happy, to see Jaskier’s bright smile and hear Yennefer’s tinkling laugh over a goblet of good wine. 

They’re sitting at Yennefer’s sprawling estate in Aedirn, Ciri upstairs asleep in bed as the stars twinkle in the inky black of the night sky. It should be good, he thinks, but the peace he’s made is shattered when Jaskier looks at him. 

“Geralt? What’s troubling you?” he asks, setting down his wine and leaning close. The smile melts away and the corners of his mouth turns down, the expression out of place on his bard’s normally jovial face. 

“Nothing,” Geralt lies, sipping on his own wine to force the words back down into his chest where they belong.

Yennefer hums as she crosses her arms. She’s in a loose, deep purple dress, one that Jaskier picked out for her from his tailor friend in Novigrad. It suits the color of her skin, makes her eyes glow more vividly. “Try again, Geralt. Our bard asked a question of you. Something has been bothering you for days now. I have a suspicion, but I could be wrong.” 

“Stop reading my mind, Yen,” he growls, stiffening up when he realizes what he said. Sometimes, he hates how vulnerable they make him, how they see through to the heart of him. It would be easier if he knew how to shut them out, like he used to. What good will it do him when he’s left standing alone, bereft with the softness of his underbelly slit open for all to see? 

Jaskier scoffs into his wine, and Yennefer’s eyes narrow. “I don’t have to read your mind, Geralt. It’s written all over your face. Now, are you going to tell us, or do I have to pull it out of you?” she says sweetly, grinning and showing all of her teeth. He knows she means it. 

Geralt rubs his hand across his face. He’s not drunk enough for this conversation, can feel the anxiety swirling in his belly like he’s stirred up an angry hornets’ nest. If he gives voice to it, it’ll make it real, and he was hoping to pretend just a little longer. “Fine. I’m...worried,” is all he manages to get out before his throat closes up, the words like tar on the back of his tongue.

“Worried? Whatever about, love?” Jaskier asks, reaching out to touch his hand. He wants to rip it back, snap his teeth like a wounded animal, but it’s Jaskier. Jaskier would never hurt him, not even on purpose. “Geralt, you’re starting to worry me.” 

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Geralt grits out, glancing back and forth between both of them. Jaskier’s plaintive expression and Yennefer’s raised eyebrow are almost too much to bear, so he glares down at the table. His face pulls into a frown and his hands curl into fists, but this isn’t something he can punch or slay with a sword. “Fine, you want to hear me say it? That I watch you two fall in love more and more? And then what happens when you finally decide that you have no place for me anymore?” He spits the words at them both, feeling the same anger and hurt bubbling under his skin, just as he did that day on the mountain when he took his blessings in his hands and cracked them in two. 

Silence sits heavy at their table for a long moment, until Jaskier finally breaks it. “Is that truly what you think? That we would just… abandon you like that?” he asks, his voice breaking. It hurtles Geralt back in time, to the last time he heard Jaskier’s voice sound like that. Again, his fault, his doing. How many more times can this same cycle repeat before Jaskier walks away for good? Especially now, when he has _Yennefer_ , who could prove to be a better muse, a better lover than he ever could?

“You’ll do well to stop that spiral right now, Geralt,” Yennefer says, her words sharp where her hands are soft, cradling Geralt’s jaw in her hands. “We’ve both forgiven you for the last time you let your anger shape your words, let’s not do that again. Now… breathe, and try that again.” 

Geralt does just that, taking a deep breath of the night air, of the scents of the two people he loves. Meadowsweet and linseed oil swirls together with lilac and gooseberries, and he lets it wash over him. “You’re both so suited to one another… where do I fit in all of this? You don’t need me, so-” 

Before he can finish, Yennefer is kissing him, crushing their mouths together in a heady rush. From behind he can feel Jaskier sidle up behind him, the warmth of him pressed along the length of his back. “Darling, how could you ever think that? It’s true, Yen and I have become closer, but that’s because of you. Without you, my love, neither of us would be here. We might have grown to love each other, Geralt, but we both love you most of all,” he whispers softly, in between short, sweet kisses along Geralt’s neck and shoulders. They burn like brands, like Jaskier is marking him for the entire world to see. 

_Good_ , he thinks. _Let them see._

Yennefer pulls away and Jaskier takes her place, the angle a bit uncomfortable, but his bard licking into his mouth is enough to make him forget. She nips along his jawline, snaking her fingers up his abdomen beneath the thin shirt he’s wearing. “You belong to both of us, just as we belong to you and each other, now. The love we feel for you is not so fragile, witcher,” she purrs, scratching her nails across his skin in a way that makes him groan into Jaskier’s mouth. Their bard swallows it down and he can feel the way Yennefer smiles against his skin. “I think we should take our witcher to bed and show him how much he means to us, don’t you?” 

Jaskier breaks their kiss, but not before nipping at Geralt’s bottom lip, his blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. “Yes, I think that would be wise.” They both get to their feet, almost in tandem, and tug him along towards the room that they share now, with its sprawling bed and soft pillows that smell like home, like _them._

Time seems to pass in a blur as they all strip down in between kisses and heated touches, and before long Geralt is on his back in their bed, both of his lovers looking down at him with scorching looks and hungry eyes. “Would you like both of us, Geralt? Want us to show you how much we love you at the same time,” Jaskier purrs, grabbing the oil they keep on the bedside table. The sight of it has Geralt’s cock flexing against his hip, already hard at the sight of the two of them naked and pressed together in front of him. They’re a study in contradictions; Jaskier pale and broad in the shoulders, Yennefer darker-skinned and slighter in appearance, but both of them a vision to behold. 

The familiar feeling grips him for just a moment, seeing them pressed together and kissing, before he shoves it back down. When they pull away, Yennefer pushes Jaskier down so that his mouth is level with Geralt’s cock, giving him just a moment before he wraps his lips around the head. “Jaskier is going to suck you and open you up for me, while I prepare him for you. That way we can pleasure you together.” 

Heat bolts through him and he lets out a deep moan. Most nights they do this, share one another until they’re sweaty and sated, but tonight it carries different weight. 

Jaskier expertly sucks him down, bobbing his head as a finger presses against his hole, seeking entrance. The tip presses in and Jaskier starts to slowly thrust inside, whimpering around the cock in his mouth when Yennefer mirrors the action behind him. Geralt watches the way Jaskier moves back into it, rolling his hips against Yennefer’s hand as she opens him up for Geralt’s cock, which is heady enough to think about. It makes his cock swell more inside Jaskier’s warm, wet mouth and he barely notices when Jaskier pulls out to slip another finger inside of him. He mimics Yennefer’s rhythm, all three of them moving in sync in a way that has Geralt’s head spinning.

Another finger slides home and Jaskier takes him into his throat, swallowing around him before pulling off with a lewd _pop_ that makes a blurt of precome drip from his slit. Of course, Jaskier dips back down to lick it up with his tongue, his eyes bright and playful. “Delicious as always, dear heart,” Jaskier murmurs, before dropping his head to Geralt’s hip when Yennefer twists her fingers. “Are you ready? I’m ready for you.”

Geralt nods, and he watches as the two of them shift so fluidly, he would almost believe they’d planned this. Jaskier climbs on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock and lining it up with his stretched hole before slowly sinking down. Jaskier throws his head back and moans when the head of Geralt’s cock pops inside, and he rocks forward until he’s sunk to the base. Geralt’s cock flexes where Jaskier’s body is tight and hot around him, the bard falling apart on his lap.

Which is when Yennefer nudges up behind Jaskier, her chin propped on his shoulder as she guides Geralt’s favorite cock of hers into him. He can picture it, the way the silken straps wind around her thighs, the deep purple cock jutting from between her legs, low enough that the tapered end is snug inside her dripping cunt. He feels it the moment she pushes inside, stretching him as she rolls her hips, inching the cock inside of him. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Look at you, taking us so well, letting us love you properly,” Jaskier coos as he fucks himself down onto Geralt’s cock, maddeningly slow. He and Yennefer move in tandem once more, Jaskier lifting up as Yennefer pulls out, dropping back down as she shoves inside. It creates a feedback loop of pleasure that has heat pooling in his belly already. 

“You’re ours, and we’re yours, and we belong to each other, Geralt. There will always be space for you, because you’re the reason we’re here together,” Yennefer adds, voice painfully soft as she fucks into him. She’s like him, that she only allows herself to speak her truths about the love she has for them here in this bed, tangled in the two men she loves. “And you’d do best to remember that.”

The words they speak are a balm to his heart, the movements of their bodies together chasing away the darkness that had been clouding him for days. It feels too good, being surrounding and pleasured by them both. 

Jaskier comes first, body squeezing tight around his cock as he does, painting Geralt’s belly with his hot seed as he groans. He keeps fucking down onto Geralt’s cock, the bounces of his hips speeding up as he tries to pull Geralt over the edge with him. It works, his cock flexing as he fills Jaskier up and he pushes back against Yennefer, taking her cock as deep as he can while he rides the waves of his orgasm. 

When he’s finished coming, Yennefer slides out and Jaskier stays perched on top of him, cock still buried deep inside of his bard. He smells her before he sees her, the spicy-sweet scent of her arousal is thick on the back of his tongue as she moves to sit astride his face. “Well?” she asks, quirking up an eyebrow. 

Geralt obliges by pulling her to him, burying his tongue in the heat of her as he laps at her hungrily. He stiffens his tongue and plunges inside of her, tasting how wet and open she is. He can hear Jaskier babbling nonsense at them both, grinding down on Geralt’s still-hard cock. It spurs him on, fucking up into Jaskier as he fucks Yennefer with his tongue, groaning into her cunt as she rolls her hips down onto him. He could stay like this forever, buried in her folds and feeling the hot clutch of Jaskier’s body around him.

He takes her clit into his mouth and sucks, flicking his tongue over the little nub until she starts to shake above him. It spurs him on, bouncing Jaskier on his cock as he works Yennefer with his tongue, drinking in the sounds they’re both making. They both call out his name, Jaskier moaning and Yennefer fisting her hand in his hair to move him where she wants. 

As much as he wants it to go on forever, it can’t. Soon, Yennefer is grinding down on his tongue and he can taste it the moment she comes, lapping greedily at her as Jaskier grinds down, pulling him into a second orgasm that leaves him shaking and near breathless. 

Yennefer climbs off of him at the same time Jaskier pulls off, but they don’t leave Geralt cold. They snuggle on either side of him, trading him back and forth as they kiss the taste of Yennefer’s come off of his mouth. It’s almost enough to make him stir again, but he feels sated deep down to his very bones. He’s warm, loved, and sleepy from the sex and the scent of the three of them together in their bed. 

“Do you believe us now?” Jaskier asks in a low voice, not wanting to break the quiet peace that had settled over them. “I love you, Geralt. I have loved you for twenty years, and I’ll love you until I am nothing but dust in the earth.” 

“And I love you, Geralt. I’m not nearly as poetic as our bard, so I’ll leave the pretty words and metaphors to him,” Yennefer says, kissing his jaw as she grabs Jaskier hand and settles them on his chest. 

He wants to say the words back, but it’s not always easy. He is a man of action, not words, but he rests his hand atop theirs, encompassing them both. He thinks they understand what he can’t bring himself to say. 

They should get up and have a bath, clean the scent of sweat and sex off themselves before morning, but none of them move. Instead, Geralt falls asleep to the sounds of his lovers’ heartbeats against his chest, holding them tight in his arms and pressed between them.

Right where he belongs.

\--End--

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Please drop me a comment and let me know!
> 
> Tumblr || eyesofshinigami  
> Discord || #eyesofshinigami0707


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